


Indulgence

by makesometime



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, that's about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 06:29:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17259272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makesometime/pseuds/makesometime
Summary: Kassandra groans, rubbing her hands over her eyes as she pushes up to sit on the edge of the -theirbed. Her skin bears wrinkles from where she’s rested too heavily in one spot. Her hair is an unbound mess of tangles that will take her significant effort to release.Gods, but there is no more beautiful sight in all of Sparta than Kassandra at rest.





	Indulgence

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt from the absurdly talented [alethiometry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alethiometry/pseuds/alethiometry) on tumblr.
> 
> A couple of notes - Archidamos was long dead by the time this story was set but he's still around in the game so I'm going with it. Also, I think Brasidas has called Kassandra the most beautiful thing he's ever seen in a different way in everything I've written for them but the man is smitten and I don't regret it.

He considers himself a reasonable man. Even his worst habits are rarely indulged, his most tempestuous thoughts never given voice. He understands the importance of biding his time, choosing his moments, acting with caution and sense.

And then there is Kassandra.

She has never found herself hamstrung by necessary convention. Her heart, her spirit is Spartan but her disinterest in adherence to the rules? That is purely her own. He admires it. He covets it, at times.

And it is rubbing off on him.

They are expected at the palace before the sun hits its highest point. King Archidamos has set aside time to discuss Kassandra’s further involvement in the war, while Brasidas recovers fully from his wounds. He’s aware that she hopes to lay the foundation for Alexios’ eventual reconciliation. It is important they do not miss this chance.

Telling that to his traitorous libido is an entirely different matter.

He allowed her to rest longer this morning - perhaps _too_ long. But she needed it, and would never consciously allow herself the luxury of extended sleep. He lingers in the door of their bedroom as she stirs, greedily watching her awaken. 

Kassandra groans, rubbing her hands over her eyes as she pushes up to sit on the edge of the - _their_ bed. Her skin bears wrinkles from where she’s rested too heavily in one spot. Her hair is an unbound mess of tangles that will take her significant effort to release.

Gods, but there is no more beautiful sight in all of Sparta than Kassandra at rest.

She smiles to herself when she recognises his presence, stretching her arms languidly over her head. She’s entirely conscious of what delightful things it does to her breasts, her stomach. 

“I don’t usually permit an audience.“

Brasidas chuckles, the sound throatier and hungrier than he intends. The effect is has on her is entirely pleasant, however - the pleased little hitch of her chest, the flush that forms at the base of her throat.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t put on such a show.”

She settles her weight back on her hands when he moves towards her, feigning a disinterest that slips the moment he settles down on his knees before her. His choice to avoid putting on his armor was unconsciously wise - the moment surely would have been spoiled by his clanking, stilted movements.

“Now who’s putting on a show?”

He delights in the uneven pitch of her voice as his hands skim up her legs, thumbs rubbing light circles over the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. A twitch, a pull in the muscles of her abdomen… for all her poise, she cannot hide her reactions from him.

She breathes out, slow and steady, when he kisses her right knee, her left. A quick glance up at her face finds it painted with an expression of grateful confusion - _why now_? it asks, as if it isn’t immediately clear.

He is strong in so many ways. But he is entirely weak for her.

Her skin is warm from sleep as he chases his tongue over the curves of her muscle. A tang of salt lingers from the haste of her ride back to him from the docks. He groans at the taste of it, sucking hard enough to mark, knowing she’ll carry it through the rest of the day, in front of the King…

Kassandra gasps, her hand flying to the back of his head. Brasidas bares his teeth, lips curving in a smile. No doubt a similar thought passed through her mind. 

The scent of her is growing, her body quick to respond to his touch. It’s flattering in the extreme, to feel her shift, pressing incrementally closer, her thighs falling apart in invitation. A lesser man would exploit this power over her. Brasidas honours the trust it shows.

He spreads her knees wider to accommodate the width of his torso, marvelling - not for the first time - at quite how flexible she is. Unbidden, she slings her leg over his shoulder, laughing to herself as he nips at her other thigh. She does so adore surprising him.

The first pass of his tongue against her cunt makes her shiver, legs flexing and releasing fitfully. She wants so much more. Though he might never succeed in making her beg for it, he takes her gasps, her moans of his name as a close proxy.

His tongue circles her clit, lapping at the nerves until he hears her swallow down a needy keen, her body an instrument that he is expertly playing. He backs off, drawing patterns along her slick skin, savouring the richness of her against his tongue. 

“Brasidas…” She sighs, nails scratching over his scalp. “If you don’t commit I am going to end you.”

He laughs, nose nudging her clit, inhaling a final breath of her before he groans, thrusting his tongue deep into her. 

Kassandra takes a thick handful his hair, murmuring nonsense and holding him in place so that she can all but ride his face. And he allows it. His tongue strokes deep, until her slick is covering his lips, his beard. 

She trembles, teetering right on the edge. Any other time and he might draw it out, but the last shred of sense he has left reminds of their impending obligation. With a stifled groan of her name, he presses his thumb to her nerves and feels her shudder, pulsing around his tongue in deep, desperate pulls. 

His pulse thundering in his ears drowns out the strength of her cries but the embarrassed flush on her cheeks when he settles back on his heels tells him all he needs to know. 

Kassandra clutches at his shoulders, trying to draw him up over her, half insensible with need. He allows her a kiss… three at most, her tongue tracing over his lips and stealing some of the flavour of her desire.

Her hips rock against his own, cooing heated encouragement at the clothed press of his cock against her heat. It would be so easy to just…

“Later.” He insists, still not quite drawing himself away. “I can wait.”

The insistence gives her pause, her hand cupping his cheek, her thumb smoothing over his lower lip. “You are too good to me.”

A final kiss, light, leaves him wanting more. “Impossible. Now, get dressed. I won’t forgive myself if we’re late because I couldn’t resist you.”

Her laughter chases him on his slightly awkward walk from the room. Time to think about battle plans and strategy and not the lingering scent of her on his beard.

Perhaps this wasn’t his finest idea after all.


End file.
